


For Your Entertainment

by kierathefangirl



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Beginnings of smut (not graphically detailed; you decide what happens next), M/M, Magic, Split into multiple versions of self
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 13:46:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11442144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kierathefangirl/pseuds/kierathefangirl
Summary: America gets split into seven versions of himself, including Magical Strike America, 2P America, chibi America, young America, chibi 2P America, World War Two America, and modern-day America. England reacts to this. ;)





	For Your Entertainment

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Magical Strike America-For Your Entertainment](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/305664) by Flutternya. 



> Inspired by a Flutternya MMD with Magical Strike America: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jPqP7eHr39A
> 
> Set from America's point of view. One-shot.

Everything goes black for a moment. When I startle back to consciousness, I’m not alone. A young baby version of me hides by the dresser, a teenage version of me hides in the corner, a World War Two version of me crosses his arms and smirks, an older me with a star on his face and darkness folding around him, a dark-clothed version of me with red eyes and a bloody baseball bat, and a younger version of the dark-clothed violent-looking one that looks almost the same as my younger self does. Six different versions of me. _What happened?_

I push myself slowly to my feet. “Um...?”

The dark-clothed one begins to laugh. “What d’you know? I’m free. Now where’s the ladies?”

I flinch. The star-faced one caresses my face, and a shiver runs down my spine in response. He’s cold, too cold.

The dark one pulls a knife out and presses it to my neck. “Oi, little one. Where’s the ladies?”

I stumble back a step. “ _England!_ ”

My voice is a squeaky, shaky little thing. A terrified scream. “ _Arthur!_ ”

There’s a crash, a thud, and England slides around the corner.

“No one can save you now,” the dark one says, pressing the knife against my throat again.

“Wait!”

The dark one’s head turns towards the sound. England slides into the room. “Don’t hurt him. Please don’t hurt him.”

The star-faced one pushes the dark one away from me. My knees tremble for a moment, then give out. England catches me, wrapping both his arms protectively around me. “He’s my friend. Please.”

The dark one sheathes his knife. “Where’s the ladies?”

“You mean prostitutes?” England asks shakily.

The dark one nods. “Any one I can take.”

England winces. “There’s a bar up the street you can find some at. Out the door to the left, five doors down. But they won’t let you in until you’re twenty-one.”

“They’ll let us in,” the dark one says. The younger version of him climbs onto his shoulder and he leaves.

The star-faced one blinks, then a smirk spreads across his lips. “England.”

England lowers me onto the bed, straightens and dusts himself off, then turns.

The star-faced one’s smirk grows. England’s eyes widen. “Did you mess with magic?”

“Magical Strike America,” the star-faced one introduces himself with a bow. “The violent two would be the two-pees. Number two, letter _p_. 2P. The exact opposite of the America you know.”

“ _My_ America is scared out of his wits and is trembling,” England snaps back. “Those...things...are too crazy to be related to him.”

The Magical Strike America reaches forward and caresses England’s face. “We’re all a part of him, England. He may not use his magic, but it’s there. Although he’s more gentle and sweet than we are. We’re more inclined to take you here and now and he’ll wait until you give him outright consent.”

“What?”

I look up at the Magical Strike America. England turns to look at me, then turns back to him. “Are...you saying...”

“That I’m madly in love with you?” Magical Strike America finishes. “Yes, I am. We _are_. The 2Ps are more...resistant, afraid to love. But they love you, too.”

M.S. America runs his fingers through England’s hair. “That hair, those eyes, that body...mmm.”

England shifts uneasily, glancing at me again. “America, what did you do?”

“I don’t know.”

Even to me, my voice sounds small, alone, scared. I don’t want this magical, strange America to ruin this for me. I don’t want him to take England from me. I mean, yeah, he’s right, but...I could lose him. And nothing scares me more.

“Scared, are we?” M.S. America asks pleasantly.

I flinch and don’t answer. He ruffles my hair. “There’s nothing to be scared of.”

He pulls back. “Ah, I see. You’re scared of losing him.”

I flinch back. “Please don’t touch me.”

England takes a step back and wraps an arm around me. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

England looks so surprised it hurts. “What?”

I drag myself back to my feet. “He’s right,” I tell him shakily. “I’m scared. My heart is beating way too fast. My hands are shaking. It hurts to breathe. I don’t want him to ruin this.”

“America, what are you saying?” he asks slowly.

“I love you,” I breathe out, wrapping my arms shakily around him and pulling his body against mine. “He’s right.”

England’s arms wrap tightly around me. My heavy head drops onto his shoulder. “America, I...I love you, too.”

M.S. America breathes out slowly. “And there it is.”

“England?” a little kid’s voice asks, and the teenage version of me edges out of the corner.

England and I pull apart. England blinks once, then kneels down. “Are you alright?”

The little kid blushes, then climbs up onto his legs and hugs him. “Please never leave me alone again.”

England wraps his arms shakily around the younger me. “Of course not. I couldn’t.”

The younger me vanishes, and I grimace as his presence melds with mine.

The baby me toddles out of his corner and throws himself into England’s arms. “I wuv you, Engwand,” he says. “No one could ever be better than you.”

England rubs his back a little, and I feel as if he’s touching me, too. “I love you, too, America.”

The baby me disappears, and this time I nearly fall down as we meld back together.

England rises to his feet. M.S. America takes a step forward, hesitates, then offers his arms. “Please.”

England swallows, sets his jaw, and steps forward into his arms. “Please don’t ever change.”

He disappears, too. The dark glow swirls around me for a moment, and this time England notices the difference. “America?”

I stumble a little, then straighten and dust myself off. Some of the fear is gone. The glow diminishes. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.”

“It’s...it’s alright,” he assures me. “I should’ve told you I had magic, too. There are a lot of things I should’ve told you.”

The 2Ps have returned. The chibi one leaps up into England’s arms. “England.”

England looks a little startled, then he wraps his arms around him. “Hey, America.”

The little guy kisses England’s cheek, mutters a thank you, and disappears. Some confidence comes with him.

The adult 2P is more resistant, and he leans in the doorway. “There’s no way in hell you could ever love someone as messed up as me. You’re lying.”

There’s my insecurities.

England blinks, then steps forward, tugs the bat from his hands, and opens his arms. “I would never lie about something so serious. I was with you most of your life. I fell in love with every part of you. You are _perfect_ just the way you are. So please, America...let me love you.”

The adult 2P pushes off the doorframe, his eyes flicking towards the bat that now lies on the ground. “I could kill you right here, right now. No one would stop me.”

“Except yourself,” England says quietly. “I know you better than that.”

He scoops up the bat and smacks him. England goes down without a fight, raising a hand towards him. “America, please.”

The moment he says please, the bat falls to the ground. England drags himself back to his feet, heals slowly and painfully, then steps forward again. “Please. Please let me love you.”

The 2P takes a step forward. England pulls him against him before he can change his mind. “Please just let me love you,” he says in this broken whisper. And it _hurts_. It hurts far more than blows ever would have. It hurts more than if he dropped an anvil on my head.

The 2P’s arms wind around England. Then, just like the others, he disappears, bringing the insecurities and the fear and the overconfidence with him.

Finally I can’t take it. I drop to my knees.

England turns and kneels down, pulling me up into his lap. “America.”

The insecurities and the fear together drives me to tears. “Please don’t hate me.”

England kisses the top of my head. “I couldn’t.”

The magic swirls around me again. I can’t control it anymore like I learned to. I need to relearn.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him shakily. “I know I’m stupid and a pain in your ass and I’m pretty much useless and I’ve lied about too many things but—but I’m not lying now. I love you. Please don’t hate me.”

“America, please,” he says, tipping my head back and using his sleeve to dry the tears, “I could never hate you. You might not be bright in some fields but you’re brilliant in others, like science. You’re not useless. Maybe you’re a bit of a pain and maybe you did lie. But I love you. Please, if you care about me at all, just _let me love you._ ”

My hand closes on his collar, and the overconfidence of the 2P drives my hand to yank him to me, crashing our lips together. He hardly resists, and once he realizes what I’m doing he relaxes under my hands and pulls me closer.

I pull back pretty quickly, the insecurities making it impossible to push him too far.

England breathes out slowly. “Give me more,” he breathes. “Do whatever you want to me. Don’t hold back. I want this. I want it bad. I want _you_. Give me more.”

I scoop him up onto the bed, slipping us under the sheets and pressing my lips back to his. I want this just as badly as he does. I want it all. So I’ll take it all.

**_~~la fin~~_ **


End file.
